


Making Assumptions

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Series: Will/Mac 1.0 [2]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series, Smut, third date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: And now here he is outside her apartment, at two minutes to seven on a Saturday evening, wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt (the third he tried before settling on – idiot), an overnight bag in one hand, a probably inappropriately large bunch of flowers in the other, and the requested bottle of wine tucked precariously under his arm.





	Making Assumptions

_“Can I bring anything? To dinner tomorrow, I mean?”_

_“You could bring wine, white please…oh, and maybe a toothbrush and a change of clothes.”_

*

She had smiled sweetly and walked out, leaving him standing in her office, gaping like an idiot and trying to process what he’s pretty sure she just told him. And now here he is outside her apartment, at two minutes to seven on a Saturday evening, wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt (the third he tried before settling on – idiot), an overnight bag in one hand, a probably inappropriately large bunch of flowers in the other, and the requested bottle of wine tucked precariously under his arm. Hitting the buzzer, he takes a breath and shakes his head, baffled by his own stupid nerves. It isn’t like he hasn’t dated plenty before, sure, but he’s never dated anyone like Mackenzie, he’s never experienced the feeling of thinking about someone almost constantly like he has the last few weeks, and her invitation for tonight suggests she’s at least somewhat keen too. Her voice through the intercom shakes him out of his musings, cutting through the quiet, the smile clear in her tone as she tells him to come up.

At the top of the stairs, she’s leaning against the door frame and he can smell dinner, can’t quite identify it, but it smells good, and God, she does too. He steps closer and drinks the scent of her in, the hint of something floral, light rather than overpowering, sweet but not sickly, just right.

“These are for you.” He hands her the flowers, feeling like quite the fool, but thankfully a smile spreads slowly across her face and it reassures him.

“Thank you, they’re lovely, you didn’t have to…” She pauses, takes them from him and smiles a little wider. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Leaning in, he kisses her, feeling her lips curve into a soft smile under his.

“You really should come inside, I’m not sure eating dinner out here would work,” she says, moving aside and making a vague sweeping gesture towards the inside of the apartment, before taking the wine bottle out from under his arm and stepping in ahead of him.

He thinks she’s probably aware of his appreciation of her legs, her ass, the gentle sway of her hips, and tonight is no different as he watches her walk down the hallway, her dark grey dress falling almost to her knees, and his eyes landing on her calves; her bare, shapely calves. He’s never enjoyed watching a woman the way he enjoys watching her, and it's not just because she's beautiful, although damn, she really is...he's dated women who looked good, but it's more than that, he can safely say she's the most attractive woman he's ever seen in real life. There's just something about the combination of smart, sweet, interesting, sexy, and scorchingly good at her job that completely intoxicates him. It just happens to be a solid bonus that physically she's gorgeous too. The more he finds himself thinking about her, the more certain he is that he’s in trouble, that this is more than the infatuation he initially thought it might be; it’s different, he can feel it.

In the kitchen she puts the wine down on the counter and turns to him, smiling as she reaches for a corkscrew and hands it over. Her hand brushes against his and he tangles his fingers in hers, her smile turning to a surprised giggle as he runs his thumb across her knuckle, his eyes fixed on hers, watching as a faint blush colours her cheeks. He thinks about their second date three nights ago and how he sat opposite her at dinner as she ran her foot slowly up his leg, and a shiver of anticipation races through him as he realises they’re not at a restaurant tonight, they’re in her apartment and it’s just the two of them.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she says, sliding her fingers slowly from his and smiling at him. “Why don’t you pour some wine for us and go and sit down?”

He pours the wine and sets it on the table, but he’s too wired to sit down, so he saunters slowly (casually, he hopes) to where the kitchen becomes the living room, and looks around. It looks like he expected, like he thought her place would look. There’s a large sofa in a light camel colour, and an armchair almost buried under the weight of cushions in various colours. Unsurprisingly, there’s a sizeable TV in the corner, and a huge bookcase alongside it, and he’s about to head towards it when he hears her behind him, and he turns back to see her at the table, watching him, her head tilted in curiosity.

“Nice place,” he says, smiling at her as he moves back to the table and pulls a chair out for her, waiting for her to sit down before he joins her.

“Thanks,” she answers, picking up her glass and taking a sip before she continues with an embarrassed shrug. “I have too many cushions, I know that.”

"I feel like this is where I'm meant to say there's no such thing as too many cushions?" He watches as she grins and sets her glass back on the table.

"And I feel like you shouldn't say anything unless you actually mean it." She bites her lip and watches him for a few seconds before picking up her fork and smiling when he does the same. "I hope this is okay, I kind of got the impression you weren't a picky eater, but if there's anything you don't like, I won't take it personally, I promise."

"It looks great," he says, running his index finger down the back of her hand, the realisation that she seems to be nervous slowly dawning on him.

They eat mostly in silence, and it's comfortable, broken only by the occasional burst of conversation and her offer to top up his wine glass. By the time they finish eating, they've also finished the bottle and there's a pink hue to her skin, and he aches to run his fingers across her cheeks, but he holds back.

"This was really good, and, well, I don't know why..." He starts, looking at her, his eyes following the path of her hand as she pushes her hair behind her ear. "But I didn't think you'd be able to cook for shit."

"For that comment, you get to do the dishes," she says, smirking at him. "While I either make coffee or open another bottle of wine. Your choice."

He chooses wine and she's good on her word, pours a glass for them both and stands sipping on hers, watching him as he washes the dishes, her eyes bright and the flush in her cheeks intensifying with each mouthful. He washes up the final plate and dries his hands, and when he turns to look at her again, she smiles and pushes his wine glass towards him across the counter, her eyes drifting to his mouth as he takes a sip. She runs her tongue quickly over her top lip, and whether it’s a deliberate move or not the effect on him is predictable and he has to suppress a groan. Picking up her glass, she turns and heads for the living room, and he feels like an eager puppy trailing behind her, his eyes once again landing on her calves, moving slightly higher as she sits down on the couch and her dress offers him a tantalising glimpse of her thigh. He puts his glass on the table, sits down beside her, and reaches for her hand, entirely unable to resist the urge to feel her fingers in his again. Turning to her, he’s about to speak when she silently and determinedly climbs into his lap and settles back on his thighs.

“Thank you,” she says, a soft smile curving onto her lips, her fingers clasping his. “For doing the dishes, for the flowers…”

“If this is my reward, I’ll bring you flowers and wash your dishes every night.” He smirks and slides his free hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"There's a slight problem with that." She shifts in his lap slightly and his free hand curls against the soft fabric of her dress.

"There is?" He smiles at her and threads his fingers more tightly within hers.

"Mmm," she says with a nod, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and releasing it so slowly it mesmerises him for a few seconds. "I don't think I have enough vases."

"I'll bring the vases too," he murmurs, sliding his hand from hers and resting it on her neck, his fingers pushing into her hair, his eyes fixed on hers as she blinks slowly at him.

She's the one who closes the distance, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders, her nose rubbing softly, playfully, against his and her warm breath ghosting across his skin. When she pulls back a fraction and smiles at him, it's a smile so full of promise that he can't help but return it. He loves her smile, the way her whole face lights up, how the corners of her eyes crinkle just slightly. His next thought is of how beautiful their kids would be, and he's ridiculously proud of himself for managing not to express it aloud and scare the shit out of her.

Not counting the brief kiss she greeted him with at the door, he hasn't felt her lips under his since he kissed her as he put her into a taxi on Wednesday night, and he can barely wait another second. Running his thumb slowly across her mouth, he parts her lips and leans in, kissing her gently at first, barely a touch, savouring the faint sighs she lets out against him. His fingers tangle further into her hair and he sucks lightly on her bottom lip, sliding his tongue against hers as she opens her mouth wider and he kisses her for what feels like hours, yet somehow not long enough.

She lets out another slightly louder sigh against his lips as she pulls back, and the neckline of the wrap dress she’s wearing opens enough to give him a glimpse of her bra, which appears to be black lace with tiny pink flowers, the perfect combination of sexy and sweet, just like she is.

Shifting slightly, she pushes her thighs tighter against his, and when a subtle shift of her hips sends a sharp signal to his groin that can leave her in no doubt of his arousal, he feels suddenly like a dumb teenager. His mouth covers hers again, and God, he loves kissing her, he really does. He loves the feel of her lips, soft under his, her tongue insistent in its tussle with his, her hands clutching at him.

His hand moves through her hair almost of its own accord, pushing it back over her shoulders, the backs of his fingers brushing against her shoulder. When the growing urge to taste her skin overwhelms him, he drags his lips from hers and runs his tongue up the side of her neck, surprised when her hand slides into his hair and tugs on it to pull him more tightly against her. Her skin is warm and her scent arouses him even further, his hardness pressing against her, an uncontrollable groan escaping him when she grinds herself into him.

He moves lower, kissing his way slowly across her collarbone, murmuring her name against her skin, and his words become a ragged groan when her nails drag down the back of his neck. She tilts forward and his hands move instinctively to her hips, holding her in place on his lap, painfully aware of how hard he is beneath her and using every ounce of self-control he has not to slip his hand between her legs. Instead, he nuzzles into her cleavage, his tongue darting out to taste the patch of pale skin nestling between her breasts. He feels her hand shift from his hair and he reluctantly pulls back slightly and lifts his head to look at her, gazing into her wide, bright eyes, and noticing the pink flush marking her cheekbones.

He keeps his eyes fixed on hers as her hands move to the waist of her dress, and it's only when she loosens the belt that he shifts his gaze lower, watching the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing quickens, and a gradual hue of colour spreads across her chest. Fuck, he may be a leg man (and Mackenzie McHale has legs for _days_ ), but with his face a fraction from her chest, he also finds himself with a profound appreciation of her breasts. He runs a finger inside the black lace of her bra, and when her nipple swells and pushes against the fabric, he slides his finger lower and across the hard, pink nub. She shivers and her skin puckers into goosebumps under his touch. He takes a chance, based solely on the look of pure want in her eyes, and pulls the lace cup of her bra down, his mouth landing just above her nipple, and her hand on the top of his head makes it instantly clear where she wants his lips.

His tongue trails slowly across her skin and and when he reaches her nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking lightly, she lets out a long, low moan, which he _loves_. They may have known each other only a few weeks, but he's already used to how she talks almost constantly, and right from the first time he kissed her eight days ago he's been yearning to hear the sounds she would make once his lips got beyond her mouth. Swirling his tongue in a languid circle, he feels her hand in his hair gripping tighter as she moans again.

"Harder, Will." The rasp in her voice he finds immeasurably sexy is more pronounced than ever, and he obeys without hesitation, opening his mouth wider and sucking harder, feeling her already hard nipple peak even further when he lightly drags his teeth across it.

"You taste..." He murmurs against her skin, flicking his tongue against her one more time before looking up. "So good."

He moves his hand to her other breast, palming it over the lace as his mouth returns to where it was, his lips tugging at her nipple. Her hand pushes in between them and she somehow manages to undo the top few buttons of his shirt (skill or pure good luck, he has no idea), and she runs her nails down his chest, a breathy laugh emanating from her when he groans. Needing to kiss her, he pulls his mouth away from her breast and moves to her neck, placing hot, wet kisses over her skin before reaching her lips and covering them with his own, aware of her hand in his shirt, her fingers curling against his skin. He wants her, he _really_ wants her. He wants to lay her down and kiss every inch of her body, he wants to hear her moaning beneath him, he wants to know how it feels to be inside her, he wants nothing more than to look into her eyes as he pushes slowly into her. Just the thought has him throbbing harder, his jeans straining as this time he can't resist slipping his hand between her legs, moving his fingers across her panties, damp under his touch as she sighs and pushes herself into his palm.

His fingers slip slowly into her panties but just as he starts to bask in the feel of her, savouring her heat under his touch, she lifts herself up and out of his lap, so abruptly that he wonders for a second if he was dreaming the last few glorious minutes. He snaps back to reality when she stands and holds out her hand, smiling when he takes it and gets to his feet, not dazed enough to miss the look she aims in the direction of his groin as she drops his hand again and reaches for his belt. Deftly undoing it, she pulls it free of his jeans and hurls it to the floor before grabbing his hand and moving towards the door, pulling him behind her.

When they step inside her bedroom, she stops him with a hand on his chest, sliding it slowly down to his waist, moving to open the button of his jeans, and when her fingers brush against his obvious arousal he releases a groan he didn't even know he was holding in. She slowly pushes his jeans down his legs and steps back as he kicks them off, her eyes wide as she watches him unbutton the last few buttons of his shirt so he can shrug out of it. He aches to taste her again so he steps forward and kisses her, pushing his hand into her dress, his fingers running across her ribs as he nibbles on her bottom lip. As she pulls back, he tugs on her belt, already loosened, and grins as her dress opens fully to reveal the bra he's already seen and the matching panties he had his hand inside just minutes ago.

She steps aside to drape her dress over a nearby chair, and something catches his eye, a small nightlight plugged in beside her dresser, and he can tell the second she knows he's spotted it because embarrassment clouds her features and she bites her lip. He hates that she's embarrassed, wonders who made her feel that way about something so inconsequential.

"Something that helps you sleep?" He nods in the direction of the light and smiles at her, reassuringly, he hopes.

"Yeah, I've never loved the dark, and I get...anxious sometimes," she says quietly, and he gets the impression she's more embarrassed admitting to a fear of the dark than she is of the fear itself. "It's silly, I know-"

"It's not," he answers, stopping her instantly, irritated all over again at whoever made her feel like she should be embarrassed. "I don't always sleep well, and for me it's music. I listen to music and it helps. Shit, Mackenzie, whatever gets you through the night, right?"

"Right." She nods and takes a step back, smiling when he follows in the direction of her bed. "I can think of something else that might get me through the night tonight though."

She sits down on the end of the bed, looking up at him with eyes he could drown in, wide and bright as she blinks slowly, a slight smirk crossing her lips as she pulls his shorts down and his erection springs free. Before he can think of anything beyond the fact that he's naked in front of her and so hard he could fucking combust, she takes him into her mouth and runs her hand slowly down his hard length. The ability to think completely deserts him when her tongue starts to circle his swollen head and she looks up at him, and all he can do is let out a long, low groan as he pushes his hand behind her ear, burying his fingers in her long, dark hair. Her gaze drifts away from his eyes and back down to where her lips are still wrapped around him, and he's about to tell her stop, that he doesn't want this to end up with him coming in her mouth, when she gives one final flick of her tongue and pulls back.

Leaning back on her elbows, she shuffles backwards up the bed until she reaches the pillows and reclines, her hair spread out around her, the swell of her breasts almost too much for her bra to contain. He genuinely thinks she's the sexiest sight he's ever seen, her lips moist, her chest flushed, and he can smell her, the unmistakable sweet aroma that tells him she wants him as much as he wants her. Crawling up towards her, he once again finds himself heading for her breasts, but this time he doesn't linger, determined to taste as much of her body as he can. His kisses start in her cleavage, his tongue swiping between her breasts as her breathing gets heavier and her hands smooth briefly over his shoulders before moving to clutch the bed sheets. He runs his hands down her arms, feeling the goosebumps raise under his touch, and when she moans louder than she has so far, he feels himself aching as he gets harder, pushing against her thigh. He reaches her stomach, the skin soft over her taut muscles, and he runs his tongue around her belly button, his hands reaching for her panties and pulling them down in one swift move. This is what he wants, what he _needs_...to put his lips on her, his tongue inside her, to discover if she tastes as good as he's been dreaming she has, to commit her smell, her flavour, to memory, to hold onto it to access when he's alone and thinking about her.

He's fairly certain he's falling in love with her, even though he hasn't known her for long, and he has a strong feeling that tonight will seal the deal and there won't be any going back. Not for him, anyway, he knows it's different for her. She admitted after their first kiss to thinking he just wanted to sleep with her, alluded to the fact that she hasn't been treated well (and God, the thought of some asshole treating her badly makes him sick), so the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her, scare her off.

His hands smooth over her hipbones, trailing slowly down to her thighs, and hooking under her knees to part her legs wider. He's so close to where he wants to be, and he licks his lips before pressing them against her inner thigh, smiling against her skin when he feels her muscles twitching under his touch.

“You don’t have to…” She starts to raise some sort of protest and he needs her to know that this isn’t some perfunctory gesture on his part, he’s wanted to do this since almost the first moment they met.

“We’ve been working together for six weeks, it took me four weeks to find the nerve to ask you out…” He hopes he sounds convincing, or that if his voice doesn’t then the edging of his mouth up her thighs _will_. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the first day you walked into my office.”

“Oh..." She sounds surprised and a smile spreads onto her lips as she settles back against the pillows and parts her knees a little wider. "Well, fuck, don’t let me stop you then."

Her hands grab at the sheets as his fingers part her to allow his tongue to access the heat he's been craving every since she climbed into his lap. He flattens his tongue against her, running it slowly through her wetness, finally tasting her the way he's been desperate to, feeling her warmth in his mouth, hearing her moaning above him as he curls his tongue and starts to move it against her. He feels how wet she is, getting wetter with every stroke of his tongue, louder too, her appreciative sounds exactly as he imagined them when he thought about doing this to her. When he slides a finger slowly into her, she breathes his name and lifts her hips off the bed, pushing herself closer, allowing his finger to move deeper inside her. His tongue keeps moving and his finger does the same, curling back, pushing harder, and he knows he's hit the spot he was seeking when she squirms and lets out a more urgent moan than she has so far.

"There, oh God, just _there_ ," she says, moaning again as he speeds up the movement of both his finger and his tongue.

He's never understood men who don't enjoy going down on a woman, interested only in satisfying themselves...and fuck, especially _this_ woman. She's warm and wet under his tongue, and she lets out a strangled sound that he thinks was her attempt to stifle something approaching a scream. He takes it to mean she's close, so he steps up his efforts, slipping a second finger inside her and twisting both as his tongue moves faster against her. It takes only a few more strokes of his fingers, and a determined swirl of his tongue, and she's coming, her muscles tightening around him as she pulses against his lips, moaning over and over. He lifts his face slightly and pulls his fingers slowly out of her, bringing them to his mouth and sucking, devouring every drop, already addicted to the taste of her. Looking up, he smiles and she returns it, her eyes crinkling slightly.

"I had a feeling you'd be good at that, and I love it when I'm right," she murmurs, her breathing still heavy as her smile widens. "Now get up here."

He moves up the bed and braces himself over her, watching as she manages to unclasp her bra to throw it over the side of the bed, her nipples so hard that he's unable to resist kissing them in turn before he covers her lips with his own. He feels her reaching down and taking him in her hand as her tongue slides against his. His thoughts turn to her telling him sheepishly after their first kiss that she had thought maybe sleeping with his EPs was a "thing" of his, and he fully intends to prove to her that no, she's special, and he wants her both in bed and out. For now though, the best he can do is prove that he's careful, responsible, and that he's prepared for this.

"My bag, it's in the hallway, I..." He pauses, trying to order his thoughts as her hand strokes his hardness. "I mean, I have-"

"Top drawer," she says, stopping him, relief flooding him at the realisation that he doesn't have to make it down the hall, instead rolling off her and sitting on the side of the bed as he opens the drawer.

His hands fumble with the wrapper but he eventually gets it open and rolls the condom on before turning back to her, taking a few seconds to appreciate the sight in front of him, her face flushed, her lips full and pink, and her hand between her legs, quietly touching herself as she waits for him. She reaches for him and pulls his face down to hers, kissing him as she opens her legs and bends her knees, nodding at him as she bites her lip. He takes himself in hand and pushes into her, taking her soft moan as encouragement as he moves deeper.

He feels her legs wrap around him and her feet lock against his lower back as he pulls back just so he can drive back into her and watch the expression on her face, her eyes falling half shut as she moans. She's hot, tight, wet, and he loves how she feels under him as her legs tighten their grip and her hands slide into his hair. Moving faster, he thrusts harder into her, groaning faintly when she raises her hips to meet his, louder when her nails move through his hair and drag slowly down the back of his neck. When he speeds up yet more, she bites her lip and closes her eyes, throwing her head back and leaving him completely unable to resist latching his mouth onto her neck, sucking gently, tasting the soft sweetness of her skin.

Aware that he isn't going to last much longer, he slides his hand down between their bodies, wanting to touch her again, to feel her throbbing under his fingers. His thumb finds her swollen heat and starts to draw small circles over and over, her sound levels increasing with every touch until she lets out a slow, ragged moan and shudders beneath him. When she raises her feet higher up his back, it's all it takes and he follows her over the edge, his head pushed into the crook of her neck as he comes with a groan.

Her hand moves into his hair, and her fingers start to gently massage his scalp. He feels like he could literally stay in this position forever, and if he didn't have the practicality of needing to remove and dispose of the condom while he's still hard enough to make it an easy job, he'd _definitely_ be happy not to move for the rest of the night. Reluctantly, he reaches down and pulls slowly out of her, rolling to the side and landing a kiss to her ribs before looking up at her, cataloguing the brightness in her eyes, the tousling of her hair, and the pink of her cheeks, combining to make her look more beautiful than ever.

"Bathroom?" He gestures downwards and she smiles at him.

"First door on the left, can't miss it," she says, and he thinks he sees reluctance in her eyes, and he feels hopeful that she would have been happy to stay curled up with him too.

"I'll be right back." With as much grace as is possible while still semi-hard, he clambers from the bed and heads for the door.

In the bathroom he does what he needs to and then remembers his bag is down the hall and if he's going to brush his teeth before he climbs back into Mackenzie's bed he needs to retrieve it. Feeling stupid walking through her living room butt naked (inexplicably since she's the only other person in the apartment and hell, they've gone beyond just seeing each other undressed), he scoops up his bag and heads back to bathroom, quickly brushing his teeth before he heads back to the bedroom.

He stops in the doorway when he sees her standing in front of the mirror, and he takes the opportunity to watch her for a moment, as he finds himself doing so often at work. This is different though, here she's completely unguarded, standing naked, her hair tumbling messily over her shoulders and down her back as she wipes the make-up from her face. Even though he's been inside her, has kissed almost every inch of her, has felt her skin pressed tightly against his, he still feels like he's seeing her nakedness for the first time. As ever, his gaze is drawn to her long legs, his eyes moving from her ankles to her thighs, settling on her ass, the curve of her lower back, her shoulder blades mostly hidden by her hair. He lets out a long, appreciative sigh and when he sees her startle he knows he's given himself away.

"God, Will, you scared the life out of me!" She turns to face him, but despite her admonishing tone, there's a soft smile on her face. "Were you planning on standing there and staring at me _all_ night?"

"That really doesn't sound like a bad idea," he says, stepping over to her and running the backs of his fingers slowly across her cheekbone, watching as her eyes flutter shut in response to his touch. "You're beautiful."

She shrugs and wrinkles her nose slightly, and he wonders not for the first time if compliments can really be so alien to her that she doesn't know how to react. One of the things he loved about her from the very start was her confidence, how she breezed in, shook his hand, and made it clear she wasn't going to take any of his shit. Maybe confidence in areas other than work doesn't come quite as easily to her, but the thought of her not knowing exactly how beautiful she is blows his mind.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," she says, breaking into his thoughts, squeezing his arm as she passes by, leaving him standing in the middle of the room.

Reaching for his shorts, he slides them back on before he moves towards the bed, picking up their discarded clothing en route, draping it all over the chair with her dress. He glances at the nightstands bracketing her bed, figuring out quickly enough which side she sleeps on, thanks to her alarm clock, her glasses, and a tube of hand cream, so he slides under the sheet on the opposite side. His eyes drift around the room, and just as her living room was as he expected, her bedroom comes as no surprise either, from the stack of books on the floor beside the dresser, to the simple art work on the walls. On the far wall there's a large frame full of photos, and he makes a mental note to look at them in the morning, curious about her friends, her family.

She walks back into the room and he watches as she spots the pile of clothes he’s just cleared up, a smile briefly lighting up her face before she turns to her dresser, pulls out a clean pair of panties and steps into them. Pulling back the sheet, he aims for a casual expression (and failing, he suspects) in the face of her warm naked body sliding into bed beside him. There’s a second of hesitation on her part, like she doesn’t know if she should press herself against him, so he clears up any confusion by wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him, running his fingers down her upper arm, not missing the tiny sigh of contentment she lets out as she curls up on his chest.

He kisses the top of her head and reaches down to smooth his finger over the freckle on her shoulder, the one he noticed earlier but only now has time to study, fascinated by it for some reason. It looks like a smudge of chocolate and he is suddenly compelled to taste it, shifting slightly down the bed and running his tongue over it.

"Tastes like you," he says quietly, pulling her closer to him.

"Hmm?" She sounds confused but she doesn't move, instead resting her hand on his stomach, before sliding higher to run her fingers through the hairs on his chest.

"This freckle, it looks like chocolate,," he says, smiling even though she's not looking at him. "But tastes like you."

"If your viewers could see you now," she says, her breath warm against his skin, her hair tickling against him. "Waxing lyrical about a freckle. Your serious image would take quite a battering."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not planning on doing the show in just my shorts." He covers her hand with his own, gently squeezing her fingers.

"You know, and I don't mean this to sound weird, but..." She pauses and he waits for her to continue. "It's like there are two of you, serious TV Will and sweet offscreen Billy."

"Billy?" He raises an eyebrow, he's never thought of himself as anything other than Will, but in her voice Billy somehow sounds appealing enough that he's not going to fight it.

"Right now you seem like a Billy, that's all." She shrugs against him, clearly pleased with his new name, kissing his chest as if to finalise her decision.

"Alright then," he murmurs softly and closes his eyes.  
*

The smell of coffee wakes him and when he opens his eyes he sees her in bed beside him, her hands wrapped around a mug, her gaze off somewhere across the room, her face relaxed. He enjoys the few seconds he has to watch her before she realises he's awake, turning to smile at him when she does, putting her coffee down on the nightstand and pointing across at his side of the bed to where another mug sits.

"I made coffee," she says, and he notices the shyness in her smile, a total contrast to how confident she was in bed just a few hours earlier. She's such an intriguing conundrum, and he loves it, loves _her_.

"Thanks." He returns her smile and pulls himself up into a sitting position, shifting the pillows behind him just slightly.

"I mean, you don't have to stay," she says quickly, looking away from him, her lip snared briefly between her teeth. "I wasn't making any assumptions, I just-"

He doesn't see the point in saying anything when he can let her know with one simple move that he has every intention of staying, so he leans in, slides his hand into her hair and kisses her, feeling the faint hum she lets out against him. Her hand lands on his shoulder, her fingers stroking across his skin as he moves deeper into the kiss and his thumb rests gently on her cheekbone.

"I guess I was the one making assumptions," he says as he pulls back and looks into her eyes.

"Assumptions that I might make coffee?" There's a hint of a smile on her face as her hand runs slowly down his arm, but it still looks like a smile of uncertainty, of nerves.

"No." He shakes his head and reaches for her hand, tangling his fingers in hers. "That maybe we could go for breakfast before I leave you to get on with your Sunday."

If he wasn't conscious of not wanting to overwhelm her, then hell, he'd stay the whole day, the night too, forever...but he knows he needs to try and play it just a little cooler than that. He has no intention on holding back on letting her know how much he enjoys being with her, how he hopes this becomes a regular thing, but he's not about to announce that as soon as they moved to the couch after dinner last night it hit him that he was in love with her, as true as it is.

"Breakfast?" she asks as her faint frown crosses her face, making him wonder if he wasn't entirely clear.

"Yeah." He grins at her as he pushes her hair out of her face, his fingers brushing across her skin. "First meal of the day. Usually eaten at home, sometimes out. This morning I'm thinking out...pancakes, bacon, whatever you want. Okay?"

"Okay." She nods and this time her smile is genuine, no trace of awkwardness, and it meets her eyes as she squeezes his hand. "Breakfast sounds great."


End file.
